


The Prayer of the Selfish Child

by MrMistyEyed513



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Band, Anxiety Attacks, Awkward Dates, F/M, First Time, House of Heroes - Freeform, Kink talks, M/M, Sort Of, Will add tags as I go, bus rides
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-14
Updated: 2017-09-14
Packaged: 2018-12-29 17:42:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12090090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrMistyEyed513/pseuds/MrMistyEyed513
Summary: They meet on a bus. They play shows. You can guess what happens next. Inspired by true events.





	The Prayer of the Selfish Child

**Author's Note:**

> I spent a while on this and it took me a few months before I finally decided to post it. Hope you enjoy! I plan on keeping this going for a while

CHAPTER 1:  
Josh’s P.O.V.  
I guess you could say it all started on a bus… My head and back leaning against the window with my legs stretched out, taking up the space next to me. I’ve always felt the need to take up as much space as possible when in a vehicle. The bumps make me nauseous and dizzy but luckily, my light grey beanie cushions my skull from the soft blows of the lack of suspension.  
I closed my eyes as I moved with the bus, my torso swaying. My breathing deepened when the oversized vehicle came to a stop. A few seconds and a single pair of footsteps later, I became more aware of the laws of motion as we started moving.  
I slowly sat up from the cool metal, sending waves of invisible ice through my thin shirt, and rubbed my eyes with the heels of my hands. I opened my eyes, only to find a young man in his early twenties sitting across the aisle from me. He was doing exactly what I was doing only seconds ago.  
I’m not saying he was unattractive either, which he most definitely was attractive. Maybe it was the way his long legs took up the entire bench or how he had his head and shoulders propped up against the glass. Maybe it was how his black skinny jeans were a little too long for him; the bottoms neatly rolled up to his ankles. Maybe it was how his red socks and floral Vans clashed against each other. Maybe it was the foreign tattoos on his arms. The alien lettering, the blocky letters, the simple bands. His tattoos were plain compared to mine. His dark simple lines would contrast to the array of colors covering my left arm. I subconsciously traced the branches of the tree as I thought about when I first got it. The pain of the shading but the beauty of the different hues and color schemes that seemed to fit oh-so perfectly.

Looking back at the boy, and after only catching a glimpse, I, for some reason, felt the need to study every one of his features: his pixie nose, the purple half circles under his eyes, the wide kissable lips that I thought were only found in dreams. I envied his stubble of facial hair, for I’m sure he would still look great with or without it. I however, looked like a recovering alcoholic when I grew it out. He had a soft jawline, but let’s not forget to mention, the mess of beauty on top of his head. I will admit, I thought about being able to run my hand through it, curling little tufts with my fingers, the soft brown strands running in between every one of my digits.  
Now, he was most certainly not the first man I have ever been attracted to. It was my freshman year of high school when I found out I was gay for sure. I had started straight as an arrow, until I looked at Matthew Taylor a little differently.  
I turned away from the honey-skinned beauty, realizing I had been staring for quite some time now… Not like he noticed. His now deep sleep prevented him from seeing my “wandering” eyes. I look up, once again.  
“What’s your story?” I thought to myself. “Why, my angel, are you on a public bus on the 22nd of April, a Saturday, not to mention? Where are you going?” Before I could ask myself any more questions, the living grace slowly sits up, as if he heard me. I turn away, hoping he wouldn’t catch my stare, but mostly hoping he wouldn’t catch my blushing.  
For some unknown reason, I had the feeling my cheeks were the same shade of my curls: the most vibrant shade ofred. “Josh, get a hold of yourself,” I silently curse at myself. “You don’t even know if he’s gay, or who he is for that matter!” I guess I would just have to get to know him.  
Okay, okay. Just play it cool. We all know how that works out, Josh.  
Uh-oh. The large vehicle was slowing… slowing… stopping… What do I do?! I need to think of something. What if I never get to see him again?  
Everyone else on the vehicle, which were unimportant to me at the time, stood up in perfect unison, including the beauty that I have already studied and engraved the features of into my heart. No plan=Big mistake! But I didn’t have any other choice. I gently tapped on his right shoulder and before I knew it he was in front of me and oh-God. These beautiful, chocolate brown eyes stared me down… and I was drowning in them. I stopped thinking, and stared into the doe-eyes.  
“So… do you- uh… Do you like music?” Smooth. Internal facepalm. Can you please excuse me while I go lock myself in a room and face the corner and think about what it would be like to kiss a cute boy’s pixie nose but never be able to? The eyes began to talk and I swore to myself that I will never forget the grainy, smoky voice that seemed to evaporate right into the air that we were breathing. The same air.  
“Uh… Yeah. Yeah-actually I do.” The eyes remained serious yet perfect. At this point, I was pretty sure they could hear the sound of my heart palpitating. “Why?” At this point, the angel’s eyebrows inched their way down, blocking a part of my view from the melting eyes.  
It took me a moment to tell my brain to form the words: it had to be almost as perfect as the glowing eyes in order to see this beauty ever again. Don’t think just talk. Things always go smoother like that. “I’m in a band and we are performing tonight at a place called, ‘Roasted’. We are trying to get as many people to be there as possible.”  
Nice. Not as perfect as the soft eyes themselves but I was pleased with how easy it was to speak without thinking. But it’s not always a good thing... My heart was beating faster than ever, waiting for a positive response.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll think about it.” The boy behind the eyes offered a small smile, not quite showing his teeth. Before I responded (which I’m assuming took a while considering I hadn’t  
caught my breath yet), he walked forward, exiting the bus.  
At least I had gotten an, “I’ll think about it,” which was better than a, “No,” or an, “I don’t  
even know you,”. I attempted to hold back my smile but failed utterly and miserably. “It’s a date,”  
I awkwardly and internally stated. Even if there was only a fifty-fifty chance, I’m still a glass half full kind of guy.

|-/

“Josh, we’re on in five.”  
“Thanks, Tim.” Tim, an average sized, light haired man, was the guitar player of our small, local band. I had vaguely noticed that something was wrong but I didn’t want to say anything. I had my mind in other places.

My breathing got heavier, the pre-show adrenaline rush was starting to suffocate me.  
“C’mon, just call us already.” I muttered through gritted teeth. As if on cue, the announcer was speaking“Good evening, ladies and gentleman! Tonight is a very special night because we have some very special guests that are here to play for us! Will you please, give it up for… House of Heroes!” As soon as the young girl’s voice silenced, there was the applause and then there was the whistling that seemed to cancel themselves out in my head. The dark room now becoming a full arena as the curtain had somehow reeled itself in.

The first four beats after the curtain was out of the way was the four beats in which I searched for his face. The hypnotic eyes. The fairy nose. The bed head. The kissable lips. My arms are involuntarily moving and seemingly hitting the right notes because the crowd is bouncing to the beat and singing the lyrics. Everything is blurry and faded: my vision is dark at the edges, my head spinning, it feels like I’m floating but in a moving rocket at the same time. I can’t make sense of anything. Then I see him.  
My vision is no longer smeared in front of me like a finger painting. Because all I can see is him. The eyes, the lips, the hair. It’s all his. It’s all real. And it’s all I can focus on. My cheeks were growing sore. I didn’t realize I had been smiling, especially that big. He catches my stare and that’s when he smiles back. His beautiful lips stretched only to reveal crooked bottom teeth, making him all the more godly to me. And then it’s the way his eyes closed. The way his mouth closed but still held a smile. The way his hips swayed to the music. The way his arms waved in the air. 

And then everything halted.

The curtain was closing and separating me from him. That’s when everything came back to me; to the original pace and timing. The adrenaline could hardly allow me to process what happened next.


End file.
